


Bottomless pit (continuously stuck)

by Idjit_01



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Dean Winchester Has an Eating Disorder, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Just slight comfort, Mental Health Issues, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Starvation, Then it gets bad again, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26471281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idjit_01/pseuds/Idjit_01
Summary: Cas squints and clenches his hands. Then he takes a deep breath and his expression softens, turning almost pleading. When he talks, his voice cracks. "You have to stop."Dean looks away, face squared, jaw clenched so hard he canfeelhis acid-covered-teeth rasping the enamel off each other."Please," Cas tries again, "stop. Just... Stop. At leasttry."Dean nods and Cas tries to touch him but he flinches away, so Cas sighs and flies elsewhere.TW: Eating Disorders.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	Bottomless pit (continuously stuck)

Sam is not like Dean. And there, right there, is the issue.

Sam can eat salads and lean protein and whatever his body tells him is good for him. He can go on runs and be the picture of health. If he wants pie or a burger, he can. He just doesn't usually want to, as all this healthy eating makes it a bit hard to adjust to the grease of all fried things. But when he does want to, he can eat whatever he wants.

Dean is shocked. He is a bottomless pit. If he indulges himself, which he always does on the road —the stress from hunts and anxiety over impending apocalypses always makes his cravings stronger and he just has to have something that tastes _good_.

He is a bottomless pit, which is as to say, that if he has that burger he so much _needs_ he also has to have the fries and the garlic bread and the pie and the cookies and whatever he can find, drowning it all in the nearest alcoholic beverage available —the highest percentage the better— to wash the guilt of his inexistent self-control away and, maybe, just maybe, hopefully drink enough to get it all up.

Because he _has_ tried making himself throw up again, but they are always on the run and he can't concentrate enough to do it. Moreover, when he tried he just kept eating more and more to compensate the emptiness and he ended up gaining weight, which with the unbalanced electrolytes only made him slower and he almost got Sam killed.

But if he throws up from drinking then it isn't technically intentional, so it isn't his fault if there are repercussions — _wouldn't think that if Sam dies_ , a voice nags at the back of his mind—, it's just like a stomach bug, it isn't his fault, he has no control over it.

Luckily, he also has some periods of time —which he would qualify as wonderful, because he actually gets to let the emptiness consume him until it's part of him and the hunger pangs feel euphoric instead of agonizing and he actually feels he's actually in control of his cravings and his body— where he forgoes eating or eats so little he feels like he imagines Cas does when he flies.

He had always had that hidden power, _not eating_ , which he really had to use as a kid so Sam wouldn't grow hungry when Dad was away. But he didn't enjoy it then, which is why, when he got older and finally had always food available he couldn't stop swallowing the chunks of the meals he couldn't have as a kid until his stomach would scream and throw it all back up.

He had almost forgotten about it, the possibility of the stomach hurting not because of fullness, but because of hunger. He had almost forgotten how good it felt when the emptiness of not having a home or a mother matched the emptiness inside him. He had almost forgotten what it was to have money and not waste it on something soon-to-be bile and stomach acid.

It almost took him by surprise when he came back from hell, when everything tasted rancid and smelled like punishment, how easy it was to avoid nourishment. Of course Sam had to ruin it. With his worries and puppy dog eyes, even dragging Bobby into it. Of course he had to have the burger they were offering, quieting their concern while awakening the hurricane of hunger and emptiness and not enoughnot enoughnotenough _not enough_ — 

He found it again, with Lisa. It was different this time. He missed Sam and Lisa was there for him but she just didn't understand. This time he slid down slowly but _dangerously_ easily, like a car driving down a road full of ice, except without really fighting for control of the car and just letting it slide. 

He stopped having fries and burgers and pie — _they are bad for you Dean_ , Lisa had said, _I don't want you to lead Ben through such an unhealthy path_ —. So he thought of Sam, and God, did he miss him, but he had always focused on healthy eating so maybe if he imitated him he could honor him and _finally_ eat healthy as Sam had always wanted him to. So he had salad and lean protein and avoided carbs and chocolate and anything that sounded remotely appetizing.

He was tired, but the high, _oh, the high_ , made it all worth it. And it wasn't like he needed the energy, he wasn't a hunter anymore.

So when Sam came back he was overwhelmed to the cascade of both relief and dread that rushed over him. Relief at seeing him again, but dread at knowing it would end up like last time they had reunited, with milkshakes and bread and hiding all night behind the 7/11, eating and throwing up to no avail, until he could come back to the motel room under the pretense of coming back from another mindblowing one night stand.

And so it all keeps repeating itself, binging and purging and fasting and restricting in tune with the events around him... Until Cas intervenes.

They are back from Purgatory when it happens. Dean has been fighting relentlessly with Sam over Benny. He is missing Purgatory and he's lonely and hungry, oh, so hungry, so he just eats and eats and drinks and hopes for his alcohol tolerance to fail so he can finally throw up and start all over again.

"Dean," Cas says one night. Sam's conveniently out somewhere after their last fight. Dean's been locked in the bathroom since he left; eating and drinking, face glued to the toilet as if it was a thousand-dollar satin pillow or a memory foam mattress. When he finally emerges, exhausted and hungry and full, acid boiling in his stomach and throat and mouth, his favorite angel Is waiting for him. "Dean," he repeats, voice calm enough to notice all the fury raging underneath it.

Dean hums, voice too raw to let anything out without someone wondering what he was doing after the screaming match Sam and him shared hours ago.

"You can't—," Cas is mad. Dean can feel it. It scares him and thrills him, knowing he'll finally get what he deserves for not being what everyone needs him to be. "I didn't build you back to—" Cas can't find his words. He's too mad to think and just wants to smite something, _anything_ , as he can't just kill Dean's bad habits. 

Cas squints and clenches his hands. Then he takes a deep breath and his expression softens, turning almost pleading. When he talks, his voice cracks. "You have to stop."

Dean looks away, face squared, jaw clenched so hard he can _feel_ his acid-covered-teeth rasping the enamel off each other.

"Please," Cas tries again, "stop. Just... Stop. At least _try_." 

Dean nods and Cas tries to touch him but he flinches away, so Cas sighs and flies elsewhere.

Afterwards, he does try. Cas is there and Sam is oblivious to what's going on, but he tries to support them nonetheless.

It's after the whole God ordeal that he feels himself slip away again.

It's not really noticable. He keeps having fries and burgers and pies and beer but this time he manages to consume it in order to fit his caloric expectations for the day. 1500, it starts. The world seems better. The threats to human kind are less. 1200, there aren't many dangerous hunts, just ghosts and vampires and wraiths. 900, no one is knocking at his door for hunts. Sam has the Bunker managed so he can send the rightful hunters to where the Supernatural is acting up so Dean can try to relax and get a portion of an apple pie life.

He notices things are getting bad again one night. He's asked Sam to buy him some pie, which he hasn't had for a while. Sam has surprised him and has bought different kinds, _these are the best of the best, Dean_ , Sam had explained, _from this little organic bakery I found_.

It's bad because he's hungry and he's gone to the kitchen to get some pie, but he can't have it. There are three kinds. Apple pie, which he can't have, because he loves it and if he started eating it he won't stop because it's so damn addictive and he remembers too vividly how he promised Cas he would try, and he's been good on his promise and doesn't want to fuck it all up yet again.

And pecan and pumpkin pies, which he absolutely cannot have because they have so many more calories than apple pie, and if he's gonna have pie it has to be the less caloric kind, which he cannot because he absolutely loves it..

His stomach rumbles and he shrugs. Makes some coffee and sits back in front of Sam, who's videochatting with Rowena — _who knew hell had WiFi?_ — and pretends his hands aren't trembling and his stomach isn't gnawing at him and his brain isn't cheering and crying at the same time.

"Weren't you getting pie?" Jack asks, mouth full of cookie cereal and milk to the brim, crumbs and milk falling from his lips —and _who_ did he learn that from, huh?— at his right side.

"Nah," he lies. "I had too much earlier, my stomach couldn't handle any more pie. 'M not in my twenties anymore."

Sam chuckles and Jack shrugs and focuses on his bowl again.

When he gets to his room at night he feels the hunger clawing at his insides and sees his reflection starting to change funnily again in front of his eyes. He knows he should tell Cas, that Cas meant that he shouldn't indulge in his intrusive thoughts again, that he shouldn't keep trying to hurt his body in any way. But Cas is gone on something angel-related so he tells himself he doesn't want to be a nuisance and make the angel return before he has to —because there's no way Cas would ignore him. He's learned that the hard way.

"I'll tell him when he comes back," Dean tells himself, ignoring the little voice that is nagging him to say something now because otherwise he won't, because the statement he just thought Is just another lie.

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically just another vent based on my own experience.
> 
> I hope you like it and as always, I'm trying really hard not to misrepresent eating disorders. I'm sorry if I've done that. Please let me know.
> 
> I'm sorry if you're going through something similar. Please reach out and take care of yourself. You do deserve it~


End file.
